i
Massayla sighed as Tamara continued grumbling behind her, "You're
impossible." she informed her friend as she climbed from the forest trees onto a grassy
knoll. "He called you as well as me, it's not as if I'm dragging you along against your
will." she shook her head, turning it slowly, listening intently. Her elfin ears picked up
many small noises–the noises of animals going about their own business. The wind
was blowing gently, barely stirring the branches…and in the distance, she could hear
singing.
"What is that?" Tamara asked, stopping her grumping and turning her
head slowly as well.
They both felt the energy in the air, it meant a gathering, and the singing
sounded human.
"Why would they be out here, though?" Massayla demanded of Tamara,
"The humans are too scared to enter the deep."
Tamara nodded, looking curiously to her friend, "Shall we
investigate?"
"Maybe we shouldn't." Massayla muttered quietly, starting forward
anyway, "We need to take the trees." she added, glancing back.
Tamara's head fell back as she looked at the huge old pine trees with their
gargantuan branches, "The sprites…aren't here." she muttered, "We don't have
permission."
"We are elves." Massayla muttered, as if saying such would give them
leave, she looked back to her friend yet again, "Besides, if we take the ground we'll be
spotted well before we reach our destination."
Tamara had to concede that point. The humans may have been nuisances,
but their guardsmen were watchful and skilled.
"Let's go." Massayla decided, moving forward at a quicker trot and
scurrying up the trunk of one of the gnarly behemoths.
Tamara conceded instantly, climbing up the neighbor and grinning at her
friend as they hovered on the branches, waiting for the trees to respond to their presence.
She may not be made for hiking, but tree skimming was something else entirely.
Sorrom stood in front of his master proudly, bound by chains though he
was. Tables stretched out on either side of him and a huge bonfire burned at his back,
several yards off. The area around the fire was filled with laughing and giggling tree and
water spirits, dancing with the various men as they all sang happily together, enjoying
themselves. A few were sitting and eating, a few other beings were with them.
"Two come." Pan noted, his turquoise eyes on the distant trees as his
guests continued their carousing. Sitting as he was in his huge chair at the top of the
setting, he could see the complete panorama of the lake to his left, and the forest to his
right. The trees were deserted, seeing as the sylphs and dryads had come at his call, "Go
meet them. Invite them." he instructed his servant, running one hand down the length of
his black hair, which had fallen over his shoulder. He focused on the boy a moment,
causing the chains that bound him to dematerialize.
Nodding slightly, the tall elf rested his fist over his heart and bowed
slightly from the waist, turning and starting slowly for the edge of the party.
He knew Pan did not care for the hatred inside him, he knew Pan paid him
no heed, other than a servant at his beck and call.
"They're in the canopy, Sorrom."
Sorrom nodded again very slightly, jumping onto the base of the nearest
tree.
He would do as he was ordered, and until he could break the damn chains
that bound him, he would be obedient.
But the second those bonds broke, Pan would know his anger.
"Someone's coming." Tamara noted under her breath, grateful that her
friend's hearing was equal with her own, "They're skimming."
"I can hear it just as well as you." Massayla muttered darkly, resting her
hands on the tree beneath her, "Where are the dryads? Where are the sylphs? Something
is wrong here."
Tamara nodded as the tree quivered beneath her hands. She stroked it
gently, focusing on the approaching person yet again, "Let's go higher."
"Or lower." Massayla countered.
"Or both."
They met eyes a moment longer and Tamara dropped down a branch at a
time as Massayla rose equivalently. Tamara could not, however, make herself abandon
the relative safety of the tree canopy. She stopped on a lower branch, looking around.
The person coming was heading directly at the spot they'd been in. She stroked the tree
yet again, then jumped to another. Above her, she could hear Massayla moving to another
tree as well.
She grinned grimly, then started silently up the trunk of the tree she was
in. She had a fair idea where Massayla was, but her friend had fallen silent, and more than
likely was no more stationary than she herself.
Sorrom frowned as he neared the spot he'd heard the noises from. There
was no one there, and he could hear nothing.
He'd been heard.
He was dealing with elves.
He caught his breath, stretching to his full height and surveying the tree
trunks around him. The trees themselves were watching him warily, and seeing as their
dryads had left to Pan, he could understand their mistrust. Especially since he had
weapons of war strapped to his back. A longbow and quiver of arrows–at his side,
he wore a hatchet and a long sword.
He could smell them now, two females, though the scents were thick in
the area to the extent he couldn't figure out which way they'd gone.
Clever little elves…
Massayla watched the elf stop on a branch that would have been directly
across from where she and Tamara had stopped. She watched him stretch to his full
height and took in his war regalia.
Why was he dressed for war in a time of peace? There had been no wars
for a hundred years.
He knows we're near.
The realization set her on edge. This elf gave off an aura of age, for all
that he looked no older than herself and Tamara. He looked like he knew it all
already.
His expressive eyes were moving from one branch to the next, not quite
straying as high as she herself was, and not quite falling as low as Tamara.
His scent was blown toward her on the wind. It also gave the impression
of age and oak. His dark green tunic didn't fall to his knees, and the lighter green
undershirt stopped before his elbows. The brown of his trousers perfectly matched the
trees behind him, and his half-boots were settled on the branch as if he were born for tree
skimming.
An elf of the lower wood in the deep? Was another war brewing?
Crayolta, the middle forest queen, would be displeased.
The wind blew yet again and the elf's long dark hair blew straight out
behind him.
This hair, which fell to mid-back, was also off. The men of the lower
woods, and the men of the deep had taken to wearing their hair cropped close to their
heads.
There was a snap and rush from almost directly above the elf's head and
they both snapped their attention to the spot.
"I know you're there." the elf's voice was low and dangerous, "Come out
where I can see you."
Upon looking down, Massayla noticed that his bow was drawn–and
aimed directly at Tamara.
Massayla shook her head in irritation as she met her friend's eyes. Why
had the fool had to move? Would she never learn to take in a situation before deciding on
a course of action?
"You have a weapon, and I have none." Tamara lied clearly, looking
down a moment before silently jumping to a different branch, stroking the tree gently.
Branches rustled in the opposite direction of where the girl had
moved.
The elf could not actually see Tamara, however, so he aimed where the
tree had caused noise.
Tamara had a thing for trees, and they responded in kind. The girl had
often informed Massayla that simple gestures would make the monolithic things
happy.
Massayla stroked the bark under her hands with this thought in mind.
"If you truly intend no harm, then there should be no reason for worry."
he replied.
"But you still have a weapon, and I do not." Tamara replied, dropping to
yet another branch.
The man looked annoyed as he re-aimed, "I come with an invitation to
you and your friend."
"And what if we're not interested?" Massayla demanded, taking her
friend's cue and hopping up a branch as the arrow was suddenly aimed where she'd
been.
"That is rude." he replied.
"Elves from the lower wood inviting us to gods-know what in the deep?
I'm sorry, we're not fools." Tamara muttered, not bothering to move this time.
"A feast, with Pan." he replied, lowering his bow and looking around
above him in something like consternation, "The sylphs and dryads had no such
reservations, as you well may tell."
Tamara and Massayla exchanged another look at this understanding.
"He asked me to come invite you to his feast, ladies." he bowed low,
something about him subservient, "I am Sorrom of the lower-wood, as you both may have
noticed." he straightened, shoving his arrow back in the quiver and slinging his long-bow
back in place.
"Dressed for war at a feast?" Tamara demanded in something like
disbelief.
"Certain things are expected of a guardsmen." Sorrom replied, seeming to
actually spot Tamara.
She dropped to the branch across from his, eyeing him warily, "How did
Pan know we were coming? Why would he invite us to his table?"
'Be wary of Pan, my girls,' Crayolta's voice had been amused as
she said this, 'Accept anything he says with a grain of salt and three of sand…'
"He is not required to explain his will to me." Sorrom replied,
studying her a moment without commenting on the twin daggers at her hips before
looking in the general direction of Massayla, "At least let me see you."
Massayla sighed and dropped to a level branch as well, eying him as
warily as Tamara had, "We are unable to accept the invitation, Sorrom of the lower
woods."
He surveyed her impassively for a long moment before looking back to
Tamara, "Middle wood elves, in the deep?"
"We are free to come and go as we please. We have no quarrel with the
elves of the deep and frequent their demesnes at will."
"And the elves of the lower-wood?"
Tamara and Massayla exchanged a glance as the oddity of his dress and
look came to them again.
Something was wrong here.
"The elves of the lower wood stray more to men than to the forests."
Massayla muttered.
Sorrom stared at her.
"If my lord and god wants my presence," Massayla added, focusing on
him again. She knew Tamara understood what she wanted, "Then I will go."
"And you?" he demanded of Tamara.
Tamara nodded.
Pan laughed uproariously to see Sorrom approaching with two elfin girls,
rising to his feet and walking down the dais as the pair studied the dancing sylphs and
dryads with interest. They seemed weary of the men, and even more so of those other
beings, but they did not stop their approach.
Sorrom bowed low in front of his master, biting back a cutting remark
before he made it. "They have come." he muttered.
"Very good." Pan replied, smiling down at the other, his turquoise blue
eyes shining as he studied his servant, "You may go." he added.
Sorrom glared at the other a brief moment before nodding tightly and
turning away.
"My Lord," Tamara muttered, curtsying, "We are honored to have been
invited."
"We?" Pan asked, glancing at Massayla, "Is she mute?"
"I am not, My Lord." Massayla returned, curtsying slightly.
She felt too scared of him to show the disrespect of not making
her obeisance.
Pan's curiously colored eyes swept her from head to foot before he
focused on Tamara again, taking in her long brown hair as she stared directly back at
him.
"Middle forest elves?" he asked curiously, looking to Massayla again.
Both, he noted, seemed very suddenly defensive.
"I mean no offense," he muttered, his light tenor sounding startled, even
confused. He pursed his lips a moment, then stepped back, gesturing to the stairs,
"Please, join me. The food has been served. Afterward, we can dance." he smiled brightly
at them and swept his eyes along the tables, "And I'm sure you'll be snatched into the
dance before you can finish your meal."
Tamara and Massayla studied each other silently, Tamara shaking her
head very slightly as Massayla nodded, both aware that any moment the god could look
back to them. Their silent discussion stopped just in time.
"Shall we?" Pan offered again.
Tamara nodded demurely, smiling slightly at him before starting up the
stairs as Massayla hesitated, her eyes traveling to Sorrom, who was now sitting at the end
of a table, laughing as he watched a sylph dance provocatively before him.
She swallowed before meeting eyes with the god again and smiling,
following her friend up the stairs, waiting as Pan pulled a seat for her next to him before
offering the far seat to Tamara and seating himself between them, "Eat," he instructed,
gesturing to the food as he picked up a knife, "Drink," he added, "Be merry!" with this, he
gestured to the entire party.
"Crayolta is mad at me," Pan agreed quietly with Massayla, who'd had a
bit too much to drink. "She won't let me find her." he added, rolling his eyes, "But I just
want to talk at her."
"If you want her to hear you, she will." Tamara muttered as she moved
closer to her friend. She'd just been for a round about the fire, and was in need of her own
drink.
Pan smiled happily at her as she moved past him and sucked down half
her glass, "Come on, Sayla," she added, tugging her friend from her chair, "Sorrom wants
to dance."
Pan straightened as both girls moved under the table like one entity, first
Tamara sliding down into Sorrom's waiting arms, then Massayla.
Sorrom smirked slightly at him, then disappeared into the crowd with the
girl.
"My Lord?" another servant responded to his gesture, his expression
curious.
"Did you see what Sorrom just did?" he asked curiously.
"I did." the other replied, his tone hinting at nothing.
"Very well." Pan muttered, straightening. He should have known the one
would look out for the other, and he should have known the elves of the middle-wood
would have been trained against him.
Meddlesome woman, Crayolta…very meddlesome indeed.
Massayla laughed as Sorrom spun her, catching brief glimpses now and
then of Tamara, who was dancing with Pan. She felt something uncomfortable in the pit
of her stomach, however, and slowed her own dancing to turn and look at her
friend. The girl was standing with her back to the dais, which rose well over her head, and
Pan was leaning close to her face, talking quietly with his head bent toward her–his
black hair, half-tied back as it was, completely blocked her view of Tamara's face.
He's too close.
"What's the matter?" Sorrom asked, turning to look as well, "Oh." he
muttered, studying the pair a moment before dismissing them, "It's nothing. Your friend
will be fine…come on…" he pulled her back into the dancing and laughing people.
Tamara couldn't look away from those odd-colored eyes, trying to steady
her breathing as Pan continued telling her quietly exactly how beautiful she was, from the
color of her eyes to the texture of her hair, touching it as he did so, moving even closer.
She knew this was wrong, that he, as a god, was beyond her. She couldn't move away,
however, or raise her voice against him…
His mouth was sweet when he kissed her, tasting vaguely of the wine
they'd all drank, intoxicating her over again with pure pleasure.
"Crayolta would be angry with me," he breathed at her, taking his own
deep breath and studying her eyes.
The sound of her queen's name, so negligently spoken, sent alarms
through Tamara, clearing her mind of his drug. She smiled at him, "She would." she
agreed, sliding from under him and grabbing his arm, "So let's not test the limits." she
pulled him back into the dancers.
Pan was irritated. Neither of the middle elf children had told him a damn
word of Crayolta. The sweetness of Massayla's discussion with the sweetness of Tamara's
kiss was giving Pan issues. He wanted them both. They were his if only Crayolta
would release the hold she had on them…
Pan's eyes landed on Massayla as she laughed still more, allowing Sorrom
to spin her. She looked exquisite, dancing and happy as she was, willing to be
entertained…
He was to Sorrom's side in a moment, cutting in on their dance. The
servant glared at the master, stepping back and bowing again as Pan started to pick the
dance up again, moving away from the old elf.
Sorrom stood a long moment by the fire before spotting Tamara, who
was leaning against the dais again with one foot propped up against it, her head back
almost as if she were looking at the stars, though her eyes were closed. She was holding
an elegant looking goblet mostly full of a blood-red liquid.
He moved silently to her, leaning next to her against the wooden brace,
"You look tired." he muttered, looking back to Massayla, who was staring into Pan's eyes
as if nothing else existed.
"Mmm..." she muttered without moving, "I am."
"Dawn is not far off," he said quietly.
Tamara opened her eyes and straightened, looking eastward. She could
see the vague discoloration, "We have to go…" she muttered, letting her goblet fall to the
ground, uncertain how the entire night had already passed, looking around until she
spotted her friend with the god and staring.
Pan was holding Massayla, kissing her heatedly.
"That's really annoying." Sorrom noted, not changing his stance as he
watched as well.
Tamara didn't reply to that, starting to wade through the crowd, touching
Pan's arm as she neared the pair.
"What do you want?" Pan snapped, focusing on her with irritation, his
expression only changing slightly when he realized it was her.
Massayla blinked at Tamara, obviously taken aback and unbalanced.
Tamara met her friend's eyes, nodding slightly and turning away, starting
toward the edge of the party as Pan set Massayla back to the ground in confusion.
Massayla didn't speak a word, she moved away from the god, following
her friend.
"Where are you going?" Pan demanded, following after her, frustrated
and irritated even more.
"We should have been home hours ago." Massayla replied as Tamara
reached the edge of the trees.
"But…" he stopped just shy of his tables, looking around a
moment–only to realize that he was being watched, "Fine." he snapped.
Massayla and Tamara both met his eyes, startled.
"It was an honor, My Lord." Tamara muttered, bowing much like Sorrom
would have before turning and scurrying up the tree. Massayla nodded cordially to the
god, then followed her friend.
Pan smirked slightly, turning to the various servants who were watching
him, "Follow them." he instructed calmly, "Find Crayolta."
People started moving.
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